An Arrogant Comedy
by FredandGeorgeWeasleyareMYKings
Summary: He’s a comedian. She’s a literature student. He thinks she’s a prude and uppity. She thinks he’s beneath her and really NOT that funny
1. Chapter 1: When in France

Disclaimer: I salute Austen

And in case you are confused: Erin Parker, the one telling the story, is supposed to be a female version of Darcy. The rest of the characters are all gender-swaped, except of course for Aunt Catherine and Mrs. Bennett.

Chapter 1: When in France

* * *

It was a Friday night, currently just a tad before 7:00, and I was exhausted from a hectic week at school. I had nothing planned and was going to watch the History channel for a few hours before going to bed. It may sound like a pathetic way to spend a Friday night, but it suited me perfectly. I was never a party animal and was never one of those vivacious girls who lived for booze, slutty, cute tops, and men. I was much more of a homebody.

"I thought I would find you here," I heard a voice say from behind me. I jumped from the sudden noise, despite the TV's blaring volume as an advertisement for Colgate whizzed by on the large screen. The TV itself was one of my few indulgences; a huge beautiful screen with high-definition, and an amazing sound system. It was enough to impress any avid sports fan and active movie enthusiast like myself.

I turned to see who was disturbing my solitude only to find my cousin Rachel standing behind me, arms crossed, an impatient expression on her face. Rachel was two years older than me, and was more like an older sister than an older cousin, seeing as we had practically grown up together. Our mothers were extremely close and had spent a lot of time together during our childhoods.

Rachel definitely took after our mothers' side of the family. She was blonde, had the infamous Warner blue eyes, and curvy figure. I, on the other hand, took after my father's side. Dark hair, ivory skin, and a body that was slim and straight.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I demanded, soundly refusing to feel self conscious in my rubber ducky pjs, despite the fact that Rachel was decked out to the nines with her hair sleek and shiny, and wearing her favorite red cocktail dress.

Rachel ignored the question. "Do you have any idea what day it is?" she demanded sharply, reminding me way too much of my mother.

"Of course. It's Friday... I actually had to go to school today, unlike _some_ people I know," I said with a little smirk. It was completely true of course. Rachel didn't do anything at all. It wasn't like she needed to really - she was set to inherit millions from her father - but I had no idea what she did all day. While I was busy with analyzing Milton and Dant and writing twenty page papers, I could only imagine how Rachel filled up her time.

She scoffed. "Let me rephrase. Do you have any idea what EVENT is taking place TONIGHT?"

I gave her what I can only assume was a blank look in return. And then it hit me.

"Oh fuck." I said simply, and darted off of my cozy leather couch and down the hall, sprinting to my bedroom. I quickly began looking for something to wear, while Rachel followed in my wake.

"How much time do we have?" I demanded.

"About an hour. Jesus Erin, it's lucky I decided to stop by. Somehow I just knew you'd forget…"

"I didn't forget," I practically snapped, as I grabbed a black dress from my closet.

"Right, so you were just planning on wowing everyone with you pajamas," Rachel remarked dryly. "And you're not wearing that stingy black thing again."

"What, why? I like that. And it's perfectly appropriate."

"Yeah for a funereal. When are you going to learn that you have a cute little body? And that it's okay to show it?"

I rolled my eyes, and threw up my hands in defeat. Rachel was the only one who would ever dare to speak to me like that. I hated her and loved her for it at exactly the same time.

"Fine, pick out something for me to wear then," I cut out. Rachel just smiled, apparently used to me and my moodiness. "And I didn't forget," I continued, as she made her way to sift through my closet. "I knew it was soon. And I blame my secretary. Caitlin was supposed to remind me."

Rachel snorted. "How very Parker of you to blame others for your shortcomings."

I smirked. "I'd rather be a Parker than an Evans like you."

Rachel just turned to me, a green dress still on its hanger in her hand. "Shut up, bitch, and put this on. I won't take no for an answer."

And so, roughly an hour later, both of us arrived at the Netherfield Charity Ball, completely decked out from head to toe. The green dress was a newer one of mine that my mother had forced upon me nearly a month ago when she had taken me shopping. I had had yet to wear until that very moment, and it was extremely uncomfortable. Not only that, but I was certain that it was as unflattering as dresses came. Rachel, of course, disagreed. "You look so thin!" were her exact words. Too bad I'm positive I looked liked a flat-chested twelve year old next to my beautifully figured cousin.

The ball was held for the non-profit Netherfield Foundation which my aunt Catherine (Rachel's mother) was in charge of. Catherine Evans was severe, powerful, bossy, and very unlike her only daughter. Due to the fact that she was from old money, and had married into even older money, she was among the upper cream of New York City society. She also happened to head the most charities on the east coast, something that always struck me as ironic when considering her actual personality. Let's just say it was less than giving. I had long ago concluded that the only reason for her countless charitable works was simply because she was bored and wanted something to do to distract her from the fact that her husband was bedding a countless array of young girls that were about the same age as his very own daughter.

Even though I didn't care much for my Aunt Catherine, I knew better than to miss the event. Although I liked to think that she had little power of me, I didn't want to engage her wrath and have to put up with her scolding.

The press had a field day as usual when we arrived. Of course, most of them yelled their ridiculous questions at Rachel, having long ago learned that I never answered their outlandish inquiries. Rachel would sometimes indulge them just to create a stir, knowing that it would irritate her mother like nothing else. But again, Rachel was simply an heiress. What else did she really have to do but cause trouble and wild rumors?

Thankfully, we were ushered in quickly away from the bright lights and screaming photographers and instead into a sleek ballroom that was decorated tastefully with draped tables and polished floral center pieces. There was already a large crowd of elegantly dressed people forming and I steeled myself for all the small talk that was sure to come. People stared openly as we passed, especially the men. Rachel, either knowing me way too well, or sensing my anxiety, or hell, maybe even both, turned to me and said, "Relax. Breathe. You look like you are about to dive into a tank full of dementors."

I let out a chuckle. "Really? You are bringing HP into this?"

"Just try to have fun Erin. Is your mom coming or is she still in Italy?"

My mother, Sheridan Parker, was what one would call a trophy wife. She had married my father when she was twenty-two and ten years his junior. From what I can remember they had had a blissfully happy marriage up until he died six years when I was eighteen and my brother was thirteen. That was when all of the secrets came out by means of a little will. Of course, we had been left well provided for, thanks to my father's successful career as a corporate attorney and my mother's family's money. My mother decided to cut all responsibilities (which was basically just taking care of my thirteen year old brother - the woman never worked a day in her life) and travel the world. She was still doing that to this day.

"She's still in Italy," I sighed. Even though I was very different from my mother, I still loved her dearly. And I could even understand why she left my brother behind. The resemblance between him and my father was uncanny and I think it was painful for her to be reminded of all the lies and ignorance she had lived in for almost twenty-five years.

"Don't get all mopey. I mean I know you are really anti-social and everything, but a little human interaction won't kill you. In fact… oh shit."

I saw that Rachel's gaze was no longer trained on me, but instead focused on a small group of people consisting of one man, and three women, all of whom I had never seen before in my life.

"What?" I immediately demanded, scanning the foursome with heavy scrutiny. Two of women were dressed well, but seemed to be lacking the sort of righteousness that most wealthy people carried themselves with. I could only guess that they usually didn't attend outings like this very often. The other one looked young, with bright blonde hair, and a tight blue dress that was a bit too risqué for something like a charity ball. The man wasn't impeccable by any means, and nothing about him stood out, other than the fact that he looked very out of place in his more casual get up. He was seemingly unaffected and chatting amiably to the women around him. Why Rachel would become speechless at the sight of these people, I had absolutely no idea.

"That guy… isn't he Evan Beck?" Rachel was looking more and more interested by the minute and I had no idea why.

"Who the hell is Evan Beck?" I responded. But before Rachel could answer, I felt a pair of hands cover my eyes. I immediately froze, having no idea what to do or more importantly, _who_ it was.

"Surprise!" Cried a voice I immediately recognized. I let out a strangled squeal upon being released only to turn to see my best friend in the entire world, Cecilia Bindley, smiling hugely at me.

"Celia! Oh my God!" I cried before hugging her. "I had no idea you were getting back from France tonight!"

Celia giggled, as she and Rachel exchanged a smile. "We wanted to surprise you."

We quit our embrace, while Rachel and I prompted her to give us the lowdown on her two week trip to France. Celia was my roommate, and attended Columbia with me, both of us being enrolled in the graduate program there. We were both aiming to earn our Ph.D's in literature and become professors. Celia, in a spontaneous mood, had taken two weeks away from school to escape to France, something she had always wanted to but never had had the guts to actually do.

"It was amazing, of course and… and, well, I met somebody."

Rachel busted out laughing and even I let a smirk cross my face. Celia _would_ meet someone. She _always met someone_. Not that it was bad, per say, although there had definitely been a few dire consequences from really awful guys. It was just a part of who Celia was. She was a friendly, ridiculously outgoing redhead complete with a trust fund and charming smile. Plus, she was way too nice for her own good. I loved Celia, but I was always afraid that one day something horrible was going to happen as the result of her letting someone walk all over her.

"Was it a French man? Celia, please tell me you had hot, steamy foreign sex with some foreigner!" Rachel squealed excitedly.

"Shh!" Celia said between laughs. "He's definitely _not_ French. He's actually American. He was there vacationing too, and well… he's it, the one."

Rachel and I exchanged glances. Oh, if only I had a penny for every time I heard that phrase come out of Cecilia Bindley's mouth... but before either of us could remind her of that very simple fact, an extremely handsome man with blonde hair and tanned skin appeared seemingly out nowhere at her side.

"Hey, sorry Celia, the bathroom line was quite long," he said before placing a peck on her cheek.

She smiled adoringly up at him, "No worries." Then she gestured to me and Rachel before saying, "Justin, these are my two best friends Rachel and Erin. Erin, Rachel, this is Justin… my fiancé.


	2. Chapter 2: The Nobody Comedian

A/N: Intrigued to know if I should include Evan's POV or just Erin's... thoughts? As always, I own nothing. So sad.

Chapter 2: The "Nobody" Comedian

* * *

Evan Beck

* * *

"_Yes I'm moving, I'm really moving…"_

Shit. My damn phone was ringing.

Ughhhhh. I could feel the California sun's rays splaying over my face in through the window which showed a portion of the beautiful city of Los Angeles sprawled out below. Beautiful, that is, if you ignored the smog.

_"Get ready for the big time  
Tap dancing on a land mine"_

I groaned aloud as I reached out to shut up my phone. It was just too damn early. Why was I even this tired? And then the memories of nights came flashing back to me, each one more painful than the next. Craig and I had gone all out; we had hit the shots hard, flirted and danced with all those women. There had been one in particular I had had my eye on. I stretched out, thankful when my body didn't connect with another. The last thing I needed was another one night stand.

My phone was still blaring Aerosmith's 'Rag Doll'. I opened a single eye, to locate my phone on the ground. Just as I was about to press the ignore button, I caught the caller ID: "Justin the brodah".

I sighed. I couldn't ignore Justin. It went against the rules of our brothership.

I answered it despite the fact that I felt like I had just recently got plowed by a bus, because, being the manly man that I am, I dearly love my older brother and I hadn't heard from him in about two weeks, since he had left for France. Not that he was there for recreational purposes – there was no way he had the money and even though I would have given it to him, he had way too much manly pride. The Becks and their manly pride is notorious. I'm proud to say I have it too, but probably to a lesser extent. Justin worked as a History teacher at one of the private academies in New York and had offered to go along in order to chaperone a whole bunch of whiny French-speaking teenagers who were going there on a school trip as a way to gain experience with the native tongue. Justin's words not mine. Although I laughed about it for a good five minutes when he failed to see the dirty implications of his words.

I personally didn't see the attraction to any of it – spending two weeks babysitting spoiled rich kids was not for me at all, even though I do consider myself a people-person. But I tend not to do well with bullshit and let's be honest – teenagers are full of bullshit. Especially my three younger sisters. I make no apologies. It went beyond that though; I had no desire to even go to fucking France. Everything I needed was in L.A.

I didn't even say hello when I clicked the green button. Instead I simply blurted, "I'm hungover as fuck. You know better than to call me this early… someone had better be on fire."

Justin just boomed out with laughter which sent my head in a tizzy. Curse him and his jovial-ness at 8:00 AM.

"Sorry. No fire. But I am home finally."

Home could mean a lot of different things. Okay well maybe two: either Justin's place in the city, a whole ten minutes from the Academy where he taught, or our childhood home in Longbourne, New York, where my slightly deranged mother and younger sisters lived and where my father hid, perfecting his hermit ways in his old age. I loved my dad. I can admit that and still be manly. Don't judge me.

"Home home? As in Longbourne?" I questioned.

"Yeah… "

That was weird. Why the hell anyone would willing choose to go home was beyond me. To clarify, I really do love my family – but we do better with distance. Especially me and my mother. She has been on me ever since I turned 21 ( I am now 26) to get married to some nice girl with money, and produce nice babies with money. The fact that I hadn't yet given her grandchildren was something my mother simply could not understand. The fact that I NEVER planned to do so would probably kill her. You get the conflict.

"Well it's your sanity. I'd love to chat mindlessly with you about your trip, but seeing as I think I may die from the pounding of my brain, I may need to call you back."

"Oh… yeah… uhh, listen, I sort of have big news to share… before you go, that is." He sounded nervous. I smiled. Nervous Justin usually meant that something hilarious had ensued.

"Well out with it then."

"I'm… well you see, France is pretty magical this time of year, and well… I know it's strange and sounds – well, I just want you to understand…"

"For fuck sake, hurry up," I moaned, my headache become worse and worse. Patience may be a virtue, but it was NOT one of _my_ virtues.

"I'm engaged. "

I froze. What. The. Hell. Engaged to someone? He hadn't been seeing anyone before he left. Who the fuck could he be engaged to? Someone he met while in France and had known a grand total of eleven days? There was no way, it was insanity. And Justin didn't do insanity. I was the crazy one, the one who lived in L.A., the troublemaker in the family who had way too much to drink way too often, and did things on a crazy whim. Justin was not like that.

And then I got it.

Then I finally could breath again.

"Good one," I said with a grimace. He had had me for a second. "But you know I'm the funny one in the family. Leave the jokes to me."

Justin sighed heavily, showing signs of frustration – which Justin didn't do either. Why was he so weird this morning? Why couldn't he just hang up and let me sleep it off and talk to him later?

"I'm not joking, Evan… Her name is Cecilia Bindley. I want you to meet her. She lives in New York City too. We're getting married in four months."

It was December… which meant married in April. The math hurt my head even more.

"You're getting married?" I asked blankly. Did he not realize this was completely idiotic? And that it made no sense?

"Yes." He sounded so happy to say it. I would've rather shot myself in the foot.

"_Why?_" I said it so vehemently it even surprised me. Yet it didn't seem to phase him.

"Because I am completely in love with her."

Now my cynicism was gnawing me apart. I guessed that love may exist – but I didn't expect to find it in one person. I've loved some women, I've been scorned, and I've definitely let a lot of people down. But I didn't think love at first sight, or whatever the hell this was, existed.

"Justin you've known her for less than two fucking weeks. Are you insane?" I couldn't imagine Justin being married – not that anyone woman wouldn't be lucky to have him. He was a much better guy than I was, that much was clear. But I didn't deal well with the idea of marriage. It freaked me the fuck out. Commitophobia? Maybe. I can't help it. I'm an hot-blooded American male - I feel as if we are raised to fear it.

"I _know_," he said, shortly, his temper (which I had always believed to be non-existent) was rising up. "I know it's crazy. Don't you think I've realized that? But she's the one. I know it, I feel it. We love each other. It's not about the time. I know some people will judge us for it. I just never thought you would be one of them."

Well thanks for making me feel like shit, bro. The guilt hit me full force in the gut. But my reason still held strong. It was too insane. _But this is Justin!_ I knew my brother and I knew that he was serious and truly believed what he was feeling was the real deal. And while I had my suspicions, I swallowed them. Because I am a good brother.

"When do you need me to be there?" I sighed.

"As soon as you can get here. Celia's really excited to met you. You're off for a while now anyway, right?" I could hear his smile through the phone.

"Yeah. I'll try to fly out today." I clenched my jaw.

"Thank you, Evan. Your support means everything to me."

Stupid Justin and his shitty guilt trips. I just grunted in response. "I'm gonna go back to bed now."

"Oh yes, of course. Sorry, get some rest and see you soon."

And with that I hung up. Unfortunately, I couldn't get back to sleep, my mind reeling. What the hell was going on? Justin in love? And within two weeks?

My thoughts ran away from me. _Cecelia must be some fucking hot French woman… oh wait no, he said she lived in New York City_… and before I could stop myself I wondered, _perhaps she has beer flavored nipples?_

Four hours later I was on my way to Longbourne. I prayed the plane would crash.

By the time, I had landed I was convinced of a few things:

1.) Cecelia was clearly an evil seductress/Veela/Siren who lured my brother into fancying himself in love with her so she could achieve some sort of evil ulterior motive. What that ulterior motive was what yet to be determined, but I had many ideas. None of which were remotely realistic, but that fact is simply erroneous. Erroneous!

2.) Cecelia was evil. FACT.

3.) I thoroughly hated the name Cecelia and the cursed song about her which had been stuck in my head for some godforsaken reason the moment I had hung up with Justin.

4.) Whoever sang the song about Cecelia should probably be kicked in the shins repeatedly. By small Asian children.

Picture my surprise then upon arriving in Longbourne at my old childhood home, surrounded by my family, only to meet this tiny, petite red-head who looked the epitome of the girl next door. She was polite, was altogether adorable in a wholesome way, and watched my brother like he was the Messiah. And the fact that she admitted she was a fan of mine, having been to a show once and had even seen all of my movies… I watched all of my conclusions fall to shit.

Except for conclusion 4, which I still adhere to.

Yet I just about died from shock. Fuck. Maybe I should go to France.

* * *

About three days after I arrived, both Justin and I escaped to his apartment in the city. The reason was simple enough – the females of the house were driving us crazy. The news of a wedding had everyone in a tizzy – especially when it came out that Cecelia Bindley was extremely wealthy, her late parents leaving her a sizable trust fund. My mother was way so joyous, her screeching reached a whole new level – I had to leave. And seeing as I had about three months before my next film started shooting, I decided to spend some quality time with Justin sense it would probably be my last chance to do so. And brother bonding is necessary.

Unfortunately, this also meant hanging out with Celia. Not that Celia wasn't great. My opinion - which was not known to be easily altered – had changed dramatically after having met her. She was perfect for Justin, both of them way too nice, perfect, and cheery. No, the unfortunate bit came about when I had to meet Justin's future in-laws.

My whole family was dragged to some huge social event that was just parading as a charity ball in order to meet said future in-laws. Sorry for sounding like a seventeen year old, but the whole thing was really stupid. Yeah stupid. I said it. I bet I could survey everyone there, and maybe three would know the actual name of the charity they were there for and what it actually did. I refused to dress to the standard – the whole monkey suit wasn't me and I had long ago learned that pretending to be someone other than what you were never got you very far.

So there I was, trying to enjoy myself, which was nearly impossible with my immature sisters all around me… when I saw _her_.

She was probably the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. And coming from me, that says quite a lot. My history with women isn't something that would qualify me as a man whore (I'm no Tiger Woods) but I've had an extensive history with beautiful women.

Of course, in my experience, the more beautiful the woman, the more of a self righteous bitch she was. Regardless, I stopped to stare.

She had dark, wavy hair framing a heart shape face and a pointy dominating chin. Her eyes were round, but I was too far away to see the color, but they looked dark. Her skin was pale ivory and popped out against the green of her dress, which was tight on her thin frame.

She also looked none too happy about being there, and looked like she had something inserted very far into her asshole. But still gorgeous none the less. And I could hardly judge. I wasn't too happy to be there myself.

And for some reason, I felt a huge pull to excuse myself and approach her. And after I caught both her and the curvy blonde she was with staring at me, I made up my mind. But before I could actually move, I saw Celia Bindley, my future sister-in-law, put her hands over the girl's eyes. There was a moment before the two embraced, and I for some reason felt excited. Because if she knew Celia Bindley, she would then shortly know me.

Marie, my younger sister followed my gaze and gave a start. "Oh my god," Marie said excitedly. "Christina! Is that Rachel Evans? And Erin Parker?"

The names sounded vaguely familiar but I had no idea why. I watched as Christina looked over and her jaw dropped.

"Celia's friends with _them_!? Oh my God!"

"Who are they?" I asked, feeling way out of the loop. It had been too long since I was out of New York City.

Christina rolled her eyes. "You are so clueless sometimes. Rachel Evans is a socialite and is only my like idol. She is so stylish! Her dad owns the Evans Hotel franchise. And Erin Parker is an even bigger deal. Her dad was William Parker… you know the real estate mogul? He died and now she owns it all. They are cousins."

I had definitely heard of William Parker before. The man owned thriving businesses not only all over New York, but in countless other states as well. He had had his hand in everything: banks, hotels, restaurants, lodges, apartments. As far as I could remember, he had also had other parts of himself in every other woman.

Erin Parker, who currently had her back to me, had looked no older than me. Yet she was set for life. It was beyond belief. Suddenly I was feeling like a second rate celebrity. I mean, sure a few people had recognized me here, and a fellow comedian in attendance, George Austin, had even stopped to wish me luck with my new movie. But my influence fell short in comparison to two little girls who had done next to nothing to earn it. It was just because their daddies had had powerful last names.

* * *

Erin Parker

* * *

"Your fiance?" I deadpanned.

The two smiled, seemingly expecting this reaction. My mind was screaming. My best friend left for two weeks only to come back _engaged?_ _What!?_ Rachel was even worse than I was, surprisingly. Her jaw was still wide open, the shock she was experiencing completely clear. I at least could hide my emotions.

It was so foreign to me, the fact that my friend would be engaged to some man I didn't even know. Hell, I wondered how she could even know him. Two weeks was a ridiculously short time to learn about someone's true character. And I wondered, like I always did, if this smiling, beautiful man had Celia's best interests at heart.

Rachel took a minute to gather her wits before offering her congratulations.

"Thank you," Celia said warmly. I didn't even know what to say, and instead gave the couple a strained smile that they no doubt both saw through.

"Does your brother know?" Rachel asked next. It was the logical question seeing as Celia's parents had long ago passed away, and her older brother Carl was her only remaining family member.

"Of course. In fact, he's meeting Justin's family tonight since they are all here. I want you to meet them too… since you two are like family to me."

I just gave a nod, and began scanning the area for the bar. I definitely needed a drink if I was going to have to play along with this little charade. Celia, bless her, was an idiot. You just don't agree to marry someone you've known for a grand total of 14 days. Especially when you are worth millions of dollars.

"They are actually just right over there, I can grab them quick," Justin said earnestly, before hurrying off.

Celia turned to us beaming. "Isn't he wonderful?"

I couldn't hold it in any longer. "Are you out of your mind?"

Celia's smile faltered, but only a little. "I'm in love with him, Erin."

"You've known him two weeks!"

"I know it sounds ridiculous –"

"Of course it sounds ridiculous!" I said cutting her off. "It _is_ ridiculous!"

"Keep your voice down," Rachel said sternly. "He's coming back already."

And so I shut my mouth, giving Celia a meaningful look as though to say that this conversation was far from over, only to see the very group of people that I had been scrutinizing earlier approach. Introductions were made; the man, Justin's brother, was indeed Evan Beck, although how Rachel knew just who the man was, I had no idea. He introduced himself like I _should_ know who he was, but I was at loss, and not afraid to show it, not caring if I wounded his pride. The other three girls were all Justin and Evan's sisters; Linda, Christina, and Marie. Christina was the youngest, and I thought she was much too young to be at such a place, regardless of the fact that she was with her family. Not only that, but I noticed her dress, which I had thought was mildly inappropriate from far away, really was extremely inappropriate from close up, with a plunging neckline and slit up the already extremely short skirt.

I also couldn't get passed that this was perhaps the tackiest way to meet in-laws. But Celia was smiling, as was Justin and the rest of his simple minded family members, while Rachel made the appropriate small talk. I really needed that drink, and so promptly excused myself. Rude? Maybe. Did I care? Not in the slightest.

Rachel joined me maybe fifteen minutes later, as I sat on a stool silently sipping away on some fruity concoction the bartender had given me. "I know you're pissed as hell, but maybe it's for real this time," she said lightly. I scoffed.

"Well at least give the guy a chance. Celia's a big girl, she knows what she's doing."

"Then why am I always cleaning up her messes?" I demanded.

Rachel just sighed. "Justin seems nice, just be nice back. And his brother is cute and famous, can't hurt to chat him up." She said this as elbowing me lightly in the ribs.

"He's famous?" I snorted. I couldn't picture him being famous. He didn't _look_ famous.

"God do you ever watch anything _but_ the History channel? Maybe comedy central?"

I just responded by looking at her blankly.

"He's a comedian, you buffoon."

"Well that's wonderful," I said before draining my drink, my tone dry.

"Yes it is… who knows maybe he can even make _you _laugh. And again, he's cute…"

"No he isn't. Stop trying to force me on some nobody comedian, please and thanks."

Rachel just sighed again. "You really do need to lighten up, you know, it's –"

But I never found out what Rachel was going to say. Because just at that exact moment, the comedian Evan Beck himself cut in between us to grab some mints from the bar. "Excuse me ladies, nobody comedian coming through," he said, with a smirk in my direction. Our eyes met, and I couldn't help but be amazed by the color – deep gray. And with that, he popped two mints into his mouth, and turned away, retreating back to wherever the hell he had come from.

I turned bright red, naturally, and Rachel just let out deep chuckles. "That's embarrassing," she said before ordering a drink for herself. The bartender quickly delivered.

"Glad I can amuse you."

"You so think he's cute."

"No I don't."

"Yes, you do!"

"No I don't!"

"Uh huh!"

"Rachel…"

"You are protesting way too much… and you are blushing!" She said before taking a sip of her own drink.

"I'm embarrassed. He just heard me insult him," I admitted.

"Haven't you ever seen that movie that he's in?"

"I thought he was a comedian?" I asked, now thoroughly confused.

"Wow, it's like you live under a rock sometimes. Seriously, no more history channel for you. Time to join the rest of us in this century… you know, the one where comedians also have the ability to star in movies."

I rolled my eyes. Great, this was turning out to be even worse than I had thought. I ordered another drink.


End file.
